The Uchiha's Wife: Palimpsest of Semblance
by Ombree
Summary: This is a collection of content that was intended for The Uchiha's Wife but was either removed, improved, or didn't make the final cut. None of the content here will be in any particular order so it'll be posted with no real rhyme or reason. There will be a mountain of errors, and some twists and turns that originally were meant to occur but didn't.


**Author Note:**

This is a collection of content that was intended for The Uchiha's Wife but was either removed, improved, or didn't make the final cut. None of the content here will be in any particular order so it'll be posted with no real rhyme or reason. There will be a mountain of errors, and some twists and turns that originally were meant to occur but didn't. If I can remember what exactly I intended or what the thought was behind it's removal, etc I'll add notes to that. These will also be in varied length since they're sections of content not a full piece.

A lot of you seemed interest in my original plans as I wrote this story out and I figure this would be a fun little thing for you guys to see and how much it's changed. None of this work is considered "canon" to the actual The Uchiha's Wife at this stage so everything you see here will probably never be referenced, used, or continued upon.

* * *

 **Originally Meant for Chapter 14**

 _So originally we got the name of the OC Senju way early. I was originally intending to make this where he got a name, and he had a face to face with Sakura. This was also intended to be her first battle I guess you could say? I also thought to have her cut her long hair but after going back and forth decided not to cut her hair. Far too often I feel we run for the iconic moment in the Forest of Death, and this also didn't work for something I have on hold for way later in the story. While I do a lot of parallels I also try really hard not to do what's expected or obvious, and a lot of my friends such as beatoneheart, closetpoet7, etc. all agreed it was to cliche to go this way. I felt extremely dissatisfied with this outcome and scrapped this entire section. From the hair cut to the proverbial damsel in distress moment it just seemed too ridiculous honestly_. _Although at the time I was pretty excited about this, and really proud of it I found later when I took a step back this just wasn't the route I wanted to go haha._

 _This also started what I considered the possessive Sasuke moment I had for a while. I ran into a situation where mentally I had him in two completely different mind sets between chapters and sections considering this takes place after the trip to Konoha. At that time it became increasingly obvious I was writing two completely different Sauces and was another reason I went a head and scrapped this. I needed it to flow evenly and to come from a moment in which he's proud of her and wanting to understand her more to making him freakishly possessive out of left field just couldn't happen because I hadn't developed him in that way nor was it something I wanted._

 _You'll notice it abruptly ends because I literally passed out in the middle of writing it and when I was able to come back I couldn't remember what the hell I was about to do next OTL_

 _I replaced the OC Senju's name with random x's since he hasn't had his name thrown down yet in the main story but once we hit that I'll probably adjust it here._

* * *

The medic camp is infected with influenza. The symptoms are obvious—fever, aching bodies, chills, headache, cough, fatigue, congestion, and scratchy throats. The influenza has hit their camp hard, and progressed through all it touches. The season had not been kind with the down pour it had brought. The thunder that had only been but days before brought with it the coldest of rain. The drops soaked through all it touched chilling the air. Her best efforts to keep herself from falling prone to it's grasp is but that of a cloth mask upon her nose, and mouth. The virus has already made its way into her system though—the rawness of her throat, dull headache, and ache that throbs within her every movement. She's not as far gone as the injured shinobi who had come for healing after their last battle. The cries of the children as they shook within the blankets, and the choked breaths between coughs remind all around them that they are just that—children. The fingers that grab for those treating them ache and the fever that's touched them brings tears down their face as the illness runs through their small bodies. The adults who have captured it let the groan fall from their mouths with the headache that pounds within their head. For every mixture of medicine she makes she reminds herself to drink two—she never does as there's never enough to go around. There's only the hope that she can pour a little more of her chakra into them after the medics have done their best to mend the physical wounds. Fingers grasp the ladle with care as she continues to stir yet another mixture of medicine.

Shisui had been kept from the camp with his task of continuing to gather the herbs she had listed. It had only taken a description, and what should grow around it. He continued to bring her what she needed. There's concern for her own health as he too adorns the mask meant to keep the virus at bay. The headache dull within her head increases, and with it she can feel the continued throb within her ears.

Her teacher had made it clear when she had taken in medical ninjutsu—she would be the last to fall. The medic would always been the last to fall. They were meant to keep the front line moving, and they would not stop until treatment was complete. The medics throughout the camp followed her lead. All of them had gotten the virus but even within their ache, and even within their fever they worked to mend the broken bone, they worked to heal over the severed limb, they worked to disinfect the torn skin, and they worked to bring the sick comfort as they drank their medicine. They held the hand of the child that cried out within their fever, and they held the bucket as the adults let the contents of their stomach rise from their throats.

The heat from fire that heats her mixture is soothing and one that she praises mentally among her aches. Her fingers shake, and the stiffness of her neck is increasing. She's going to lose the ability to turn her head soon—no, it's best to think of what comes next. She cannot allow herself to think of her own aches, and pain. The shinobi in tent thirteen needed his next dose. These motions are habit she does not need to think into them as she seeks to bring the first dose from this mixture to the one in need. Entering the tent this male greets her with a groan and the mutter of pain.

His hand grasps her own gloved one as he struggles to sit up allowing the blanket to pool upon his lap. Battle had taken this man's right eye, and broken his arm. His breathing is high within his fever, and the sweat that coats his hair and clothes is in the air. Her fingers press upon his arm and the exchange of the cup is given. She wants to utter encouragement. She wants to tell him his body will fight through the virus, and that it will get better. She cannot find it in her to do it though. He does not need her encouragement right now. He needs rest, and his body would continue to do all it could even within his weakened state.

The shift of the tents flap is barely heard—the pounding of her head within her ears is coming harsher, and more often.

"Shisui?" she's calling her voice raspy.

The pause of the shinobi in front of her comes and the choke of his air follows—it's all the warning she needs. Viridian widen, and her heart beats to a new rhythm. None within her care would come to harm—None. Sore muscles send spasms of pain as she grips the hand far closer than she had realized. There is nothing gentle about the way she twists their arm slamming their body upon the ground making the muddy earth shake and her patient shuffle off the bed in an effort to assist. Viridian glow dangerously as she lets out the sound of distress leave her lips. The pain shoots through her body but she's far from done. She will protect this shinobi. He had fought hard, and he had sought safety within her—

 _Blood splatters the ground_.

 _Iron in the wind_.

 _Heat upon their skin_.

 _Sound fails to enter her ears_.

There's the scream she knows is coming from her mouth as she clambers to her feet. Mud cakes her and fingers gloved in dirty pull with far more force than necessary upon the mask to give her better oxygen flow. She's charging forward with aches and pain abandoned within the destroyed tent dancing within the flames. A lift of her leg and down upon the earth it comes sending it shattering the ground before them.

 _Soundless._

 _All of these things are soundless._

The high pitched noise that continues within her ear drums is all she can hear as she stumbles out of the way of a fist that had not taken her earth shattering display as a warning.

Senju, and Uzumaki alike are in every direction viridian dare to shift. The medics hardly a threat are being slain as they seek to protect their injured, and the injured are taken by their heads, and those capable fight back. They only needed to put distance between them. They could make a getaway with enough push.

The fist to her nose connects slamming her head back, and twisting her feet— _they intend to kill her_.

 _She would no longer be a victim of circumstance_.

 _War would not take her from the world of the living_.

 _Medics would not be the first to fall_.

Her fists are slamming back and her viridian keep themselves upon every twitch of their body as blood spills from her nose. It only seeks to make her far less _dainty_ —it seeks to make her all the more _dangerous_.

She had told her husband she had put her _support_ in him. She would _defend_ his men. She would _defend_ his men's children. She would _defend_ them in _all_ in her support. She will keep going, and going to see to their safety.

The crush of her knuckles comes and this enemy shinobi's jaw cracks with the force. His body scrapes across the muddy crumbled earth skidding into the two who seek to assist in her death. Fingers curl— _she will not be taken lightly_. They will have to drag her to King Yan's gates. They will have to make sure she cannot raise her head before the god of the underworld. The forceful whip of her neck sends the surge of pain through her head bringing sound once more to her ears. It's terror, and it's chaos. It is war.

The scream that echos in the chaos scratches against her throat as she goes to meet them half way. The fist that connects with her chest is harsh but the fist to their shoulder is even harsher. Viridian do not dare to leave them even within their strikes.

 _Evasion is top priority for a medic when in combat_.

 _The medical ninja should never be hit_.

Blood flies from her mouth—sickness has made her sluggish. The second hit to her temple sends her sideways but the glow of her viridian will not be stopped. The Senju and Uzumaki spoke of the terror that came with eyes deep in rich reds. They spoke of the stilled heart beat that came from the eyes her husband wore. They would fear her viridian this time.

Her upon the ground is the leverage she needs to push her legs forward in an attempt to connect. The muscle within the hand that grabs it is enough warning to slam herself upon the ground. She cannot suffer a broken ankle. She cannot suffer damage to this degree. The crush of her body against the earth sends a tremor throughout the battlefield. The desperate air she seeks to taken in burns her lungs as she breaks into a fever from the increased strain on her body.

Rolling within the mud she's managed to evade the attack meant for her heart. Hands come behind her allowing her to arch upon her back and flip to her feet. The shooting pain throughout her back, legs, and arms is just the influenza she reminds herself as she slams her fist upon their back crushing them within the mud and breaking a few ribs.

 _Oh_ — _no, no, no_ —

Her rose colored strands are pulled sending her backward upon her bottom. The blood that paints her teeth come out within the pained lividity that decorates her face.

"Sakura-san, don't fight. You will be fine." this is a voice she had not heard in years, " _The Uchiha_ dared to use you in such a manner."

The footsteps that make their way before her send her viridian scaling upon this male that speaks so gentle with her. Every inch of him that she trails only seeks to make her viridian widen in their gaze. She knows this male well—she had healed him well before her marriage. He had been caring, and he had always been gentle. He had come to see her on more than one occasion between battles. He had tried to overawe her with flowers, and he had court her. She had turned him down every time.

"xxxxxx-san?" she response with a touch of uncertainty.

He's bending before her brushing the pale rose-colored strands that stick to her face within her sweat away, " _They_ will no longer force you to aid them—I'll make sure your safe." his malice for the Uchiha pours within the mention of them, but the smile upon his face remains gentle in speaking to her.

Viridian widen realizing the intended meaning and it's before her words can make their way from her throat that her head feels lighter than before. The sound within her ears is the drag of a blade through strands of hair, and the scream of anguish from that who wrapped his fingers within her pale rose. No sooner she is removed from the ground she had been forced to sit upon. Her face is pressed within the chest of the one who sought to free her. Fingers curl within the cloth feeling her heartbeat against her chest.

"I'm sorry I'm late." his voice is calm but there's no missing the erratic heart that beats within his chest.

The feel of his fingers within her hair torn carelessly is calming as she pulls her face from him. She's pulling from him and there's no missing the red so deep and rich across his face, "Shisui." she coughs from within her illness. He's left her side within her call as she shakes within her need to bring herself from the earth. The ring of his blade clashing with another rings within her ears as she struggles to focus. The cough turns violent as she raises within shakes to her knees. Fingers curl upon her mouth staining her muddy gloved fingers in the coppery liquid that seeks to find its way from her chest. The swelling of her eye seeks to remind her of her aches and pains.

The violent cough has her spitting the blood upon the ground as tears sting within her eyes. There's no stopping her gaze upon the strands of pale rose caked in mud, blood, and fingers of that who had dared to grasp them.

 _My hair has become far to_ _o_ _long—I keep forgetting to cut it._

 _Don't._

That which pounds in her ears is no longer the headache that beats within her temple. It's heart that pounds within her ears sinks within her chest. There is no listening to the anguished cries of the male who had taken hold of her.

 _Sasuke-kun, it's so long though._

 _I like long hair on you_.

He had liked long hair on her. He had asked her not to cut it.

Viridian shake as they come to the Uchiha who had come to protect her. There's no telling what her husband will do when he sees her in shortened locks of hair. There's no telling what her husband will do if he dares to see her so bloody, and bruised. This Senju had thought they had forced her to mend their injured, and heal their wounded. He had desired to take them from her husband and her acquired family in marriage.

 _She would go no where_.

The Uchiha meant to protect her in her husband's absence is thrown to her and her reaction time is still slowed as she seeks to dig her heels within the earth to steady them. Her fingers are glowing and their healing the wound across his chest that dares to bleed within her hands. She will heel the scar further when she has more time—right now she must move _forward_.

She's none to gentle within her drop of her guard as she's rushing forward to play the one who protects. The scream of her name comes and then it's cut off within a choke. There's no looking back. There's no stopping what she's doing as this male of chocolate locks, and tanned honey skin seeks to cut down the Uchiha. Feet skid within the earth as she brings her hands down upon one of the large broken pieces of earth. A forceful shove is what sends it heading for him, and she's running straight behind as she forces her legs to move faster. The fever that had dared to come over her is only beaten by the blood that pumps through her veins as she keeps herself moving among the rubble that seeks to trip her.

A bend of her knees followed by hand signs come— _she's gone_. Fingers curl as she pulls her fist back intending lethal harm to come to this man. There's hope he hasn't realized she's coming from above him, and it's as he shatters the earth she had shoved his way that the oxygen is lost from her lungs. The rope infused with metal has wrapped itself around her throat dragging her back upon the ground and knocking the air from her lungs. There's the realization as she gazes upon the sky with viridian wide and tears fall down the sides of her face into her ear that her fingers that managed to make their way between her throat and the rope are broken. The blood that forces its way from her throat spills upon her face. Blurred vision over takes her but she refuses to fall within unconsciousness. Her neck is done—she's pushed her body to far. She cannot turn to see what has become of Shisui. They've grabbed her by the cheongsam no longer recognizable in color between the blood, and mud that stains it.

They are harsh as they remove the rope from her throat and bind her hands behind her. There is suchc a lack of care as they throw her among those they have taken by force. Her air flow is but strangled puffs of air.

"Sakura-san, why would you fight us when we only seek to assist you from these _monsters_." her vision is far to blurred to allow her the ability to see his face.

She does not need to see it to know his brows have risen in discomfort by her actions. She cannot even open her eyes as the pain, and ache fills her being, "They are. . .not _monsters_. I will stand—I will. . . stand. . . beside my family."

"What have the done to you?" there's no missing his heightened tone, and the anger that's threatening to fall from him at her words.

"Don't— _hurt them_." she's pleading as she's desperate to open at least one of her eyes, "They're. . . _sick_. . . They're injured." the cough that wracks her body is harsh spending spasms sharp, and jolting pain, " _Please_ xxxxxx-san." she's begging within the tears that fall between her closed lids.

"I will fix what they've done to you. _This is not you_ —You would _never_ follow Uchiha. It's his fault. This is his fault. We'll. . . we'll cure you of whatever that vile man has done to you." he's quick within his steps to press his hand upon her head running his thumb across her swollen eye with care.

"Don't touch Sakura-sama." the hiss of a child comes lunging forward within his restrains at who would dare touch this woman wed to one of their greatest shinobi.

"Remove your filthy hands from Sakura-sama." another venomous tone fills the air barely caught within her declining consciousness.

"We said _remove them_ — _now_!" Shisui's voice is a raspy threat filled with lividity as he slams his head against this Senju who dare to touch that one he is meant to protect. It's no sooner his head is slammed into the ground.

" _Please don't hurt them_. I'm begging you!" she's crying out upon hearing the Uchiha smashed within the earth, "Let me heal them—let me—"

The press of a body—it's so small against her own, and so obviously one of the children shinobi—is against her side, and then the following of another—more adult—as they seek to keep her from this Senju so intent on obtaining her. They seek to comfort her within her fever and battle driven exhausted state.

"If you are to _follow them_ then you are to be _treated_ as they are." there is nothing soft and gentle from him this time—it's malicious and it's holds absolute disdain. There is the forceful push of the child from her side, and then the hate filled shove of the adult that sought to protect her with their body. Fingers yank her by her pale rose-colored fringe pulling her head back against its wishes, "Tell me what they've done to you?"

A resounding _hiss_.

A _curse_ fills the air.

The _drip_ upon her skin.

The forceful _toss_.

"You dare to bite me—" the cry of a child, and then there is the warmth that comes over her leg, " _You_ _nasty, vile, inhuman_ _pest_."

Every word spoken in malice brings the sound of a choked cry, and every choked cry brings more of the warm liquid onto her leg— _vomit is rising within her throat_. The weight of the body that has been dropped upon her lap she is sure is a child. They're small, and they're warm— _their blood is what's covering her leg_. The slow drag of her left eyelid comes to confirm her thoughts. Viridian drink in what what she can trying her best to fight through the blurred vision. It's enough to make her entire being quake at seeing this child wide eyed and dead upon her lap.

This shinobi so _small_ and so _fragile_ had sought to protect her—they were all protecting her.

xxxxxx had called the Uchiha _monsters_.

The Senju were no _different._

 _No,_ _none of them are monsters—_ _this is war._

 _Never forget this is war._

This man had been kind once. This man had smile so softly, and spoke in such gentle tones. This man had attempted to awe her with brightly colored flowers, and he had praised her with such wonder within his features. This man had spoken to her of his fears as she mended his flesh, and gave way to tears when his father had fallen in battle. She had seen him battered and broken, and she had gazed upon him within loss, and anquish. He had absolutely been kind—once upon a time.

This man was still possibly kind underneath what war had molded him into.  
He is no different then her husband, and yet it is so much easier to feel such hatred for what he's done.

She does not know if she could forgive what she's seen today.

She does not know if she will ever see him the same way again.

She does not know if she can ever accept what he's done to them all.

He may be no different than her husband, but she knows she is blinded within her love.

She knows that her husband sits upon rules far different from what she applies to this man.

* * *

His heart sinks, and the beat it had held stops as he walks within the deserted battlefield once medical camp. The swallow he produces seeks to suffocating him, and the panic that washes through him has his eyes looking upon the rubble of tents and land. Fire long since put out still wafers through the air. There's no missing the blood that paints every place his ebony seek. There's no missing the dead bodies that litter the ground—Senju, Uzumaki, and Uchiha a like.

Heavyhearted doesn't begin to explain was overwhelms him as he dares to step through this camp meant for healing, and mending. His team is right behind him following with slow even steps awaiting what he does next. The female of vibrant red shows the most hesitation as they pass a child who's eyes remain wide with blood spilled from what he swears are finger holes within the small throat—the bruise that wraps around his throat is deep within blacks, and purples and makes it far to clear this child had been strangled as the enemy sank their fingers deep within their esophagus.

His feet feel weight down as he feels as though he can hear the screams of his brothers-in-arm fight until their last breath. These men, and children did not defect—they had stood their ground until they could stand no longer. They were overrun, and they were overwhelmed. The thunder within the sky threatens to wash the ground of the blood that soaks within it. The earth so shattered and torn is a sign she had fought—she too had stood her ground in what had come their way.

Pale rose coated in dirt and blood has him kneeling. Fingers reach out taking the weathered, and coarse strands within his fingers. He had held these strands not to long ago. He had found comfort within these strands forever long, and he had pressed them to his lips as he watched her sleep. His fingers dig deep within the dirt long since dried by the sun in the days that had passed this battle. There's no missing the severed appendages that have made the strands turn brown within their blood loss. Ebony shift and there's a heat upon him at seeing the Senju who lay dead not far from from where these strands once so exotic lay in such shredded fashion.

Karin can only press her fingers to mouth, and Suigetsu can only attempt to swallow the air threatening to choke him within his throat as they see what he has kneeled to touch.

"Sasuke-sama." there is startle from the silent members who cannot fathom why their teammate of orange hued locks dares to speak in this moment.

Standing slowly he brings the locks within his hand. The thundering of his heart brings oxygen once more within his lungs. It burns and there's the tightening of his jaw as he turns to those who follow him.

"Find them." his command is lethal, and threatens to bring harm to any who dare to utter another word.

This woman had told him she would shoot down the nine suns herself if she so had too for his sake. She would protect the elixir of immortally and allow him to drink all of it. She would be the otherworldly archer, and the divine goddess of the moon. Her body did not lay among those that reek of death. The do not move from him at first. There's hesitance in leaving his side. It's not until his ebony leave the soiled pale pink strands and those ebony dye within deep rich red as the glow upon them that there's the shift of their feet. He will not speak again.

There quick in removing themselves to shuffle among the remains of the fallen, and rubble of the destroyed tents, beds, supplies, and belongings.

The glow of his eyes fall upon the lifeless man who had dared to touch his wife. His fingers curl upon the strands soiled by battle as the force of his grasp makes him shake. This man had bleed out in his death. His death had not been what he deserved— _he had deserved far worse_.

His steps are strong and the press of his foot comes upon this man who cannot feel what he is about to do. He could only pray that this man would feel this within the depths of hell. The spring nymph had taught him not deep within her culture's New Year of the gods they held faith within.

She had whispered of this deity who passed judgment upon the dead. His name is upon the tip of his tongue and it's as he breathes in deep with his foot applying even more pressure to crush this man's skull in that he recalls it. Yánwáng had been the name of this deity, and he would assist this diety in passing judgment upon this Senju.

He was a _god of war_ —he was the chaos within the battlefield. He was an otherworldly being of destruction.

The pressure of his foot finally breaks through the skull driving into the organ that had seemed to fail him within life— _if he had been smart he would have known better than to mess with the Uchiha_.

His father's words ring within the air.

 _Never underestimate the Uchiha_.

The choked call of his name has him whipping his head and finally releasing the strands once flowing from his wife's head. He gazes upon the woman of vibrant red locks, "Juugo—he's figuring out where they are." the press of her hangs against her chest are the only thing that stands between him and possible harm.

He's flashed beside her and walking with power radiating within each step he takes. There will be no stopping what he intends to do next. Her fingers shake in her grasp upon his sleeve, "Whatever happens next we need you out of that splint." her voice is heightened within her fear.

Deep rich red trail across her face to slide down her throat. There's no missing the way she twitches within his gaze and her fingers release the small cautious grasp of his sleeve. She's pulling her sleeve up, and allowing the marks of teeth that mare her skin to show themselves within the daylight. Roughened tips run upon her arm and it's the sink of his teeth within her skin that follows. He's not gentle within his actions. His grip is tight upon her wrist, and he is none to gentle as he takes in her chakra.

He is but one of many who have marked her, and it's as he feels he's had enough that he removes his mouth from her shoving her arm back within her chest. There is no secondary look as he resumes his steps to the male speaking with a bird perched upon his finger.

"He says Sakura-sama is alive. The Senju have moved north. He will scout ahead as we move." the nod he gives the bird is all the things he would expect from this gentle giant—his appearance is his most deceiving factor.

"We leave. Now." he's still commanding, and still leaving no room for questions.

There off once more. Kagami had asked for him to rest. He had told him that his exhaustion was evidently. He feels refreshed within his lividity at what he's traveled upon. Once he had acquired those who had been taken—once he had acquired the ethereal being that was his wife—they would send to retrieve the bodies of those who had fallen. They would bury their dead as they always did, and they would silently mourn them as they headed back out onto the battlefield.

The sun that dared to light the sky has begun to seek rest as the moon sets to replace it. The air cools them as they run through the trees. There is no resting—the longer they took the farther they were. He would not allow them the pleasure of taking her farther from his grasp. He would now allow them to hold their people as spoils from the war.

His impatience is growing, and growing, and his frustration is showing, and showing.

They keep going, and going, and it feels like forever within the night.

He can only wonder if they will ever reach them.

The spark that had ignited within him is what drives him. The spark that had ignited within this new found malice is what make his legs carry him further and his jumps soar him farther. This is the fight he seeks to have.

That Senju had called him a _coward_.

That same Senju would now be the one to walk upon the rubble of his clan. He would show him what his clan had showed him. He would bring their tents down within flames. He would drop their shinobi down upon the ground as they begged for mercy. He would be merciless as he took their skulls within his hands. He would strangle the life out of the children who dared to fight against the Uchiha. Ebony would remember every injury, and every mark that was upon her milky skin. Ebony would engrave her war torn features within his mind and make sure to repay each of them for every ounce of harm that they had brought upon her.

He would gain vengeance for those that fought for them. He would get revenge for the children who lost their lives far too short within this war of ideologies. There would be no room for failure, and he would strike down any who defected—he would rip their heart from their chest as it still beats for betraying them all. He would remind everyone within this war who he was, and what he could bring down upon them.

They do not stop for rest, and they do not stop to put food within their mouths. The tick of time is all that he sees, and the distance they travel every second, every minute, and every hour is enough to keep him level headed within his impatience.

He had been brought terror in thinking of her as the Senju and Uzumaki towered over her. He had pictured her within his mind crawling away from them in desperation. He had once seen a medic of the Senju begging for mercy—that could have been her deep within the camp as they sought to harm her. Teeth display themselves from his lips as he remembers the way he had ripped the heart of that medic from her body. What was he to do if he came upon her lifeless? He had sought to protect her. He had wanted to keep her safe and away from the war that had already taken so much from her. The glow of those viridian could dull as she stood before her god of judgment within the land of the dead.

 _Is that not where love begins? The desire to keep one safely protected?_

Desperation is within every step he makes—but was this love?

Urgency is within his heart that threatens to burst with his overwhelming charge to fight—but was that love?

Fear lingered within the corners of his mind—but had love begun?

He does not have the answer. He does not have the strength to solve that puzzle here and now. All he can do within this third day of chasing after them is continue the steps that come. They are tired, and their muscles ache with an entirely new burn. They had traveled farther, and yet they had always rested—they had always taken care as they moved closer to their enemy. He had desired to keep her protected—he had failed, but he would redeem himself here and now.

He would keep her safe beside him. They feared his name, and they would soon learn to fear her. She was more than title. She was more than a wife. She was so much more than that.

It's as his teammate of orange colored locks stops upon the branch that sought to jump


End file.
